Preserving You
by Vitani FyreWolf
Summary: Sometimes impermanence can be the most frightening thing in the world. Those that burn brightest die the fastest, without a cool touch to temper them. Ichigo x Rukia.


A/N: Written for the IchiRuki fall contest. I waited until the contest was over to post this here.

**Preserving You**

_"There is no blue without yellow and without orange."_ – Vincent Van Gogh

Sometimes even things that Soul Society and Earth had in common seemed so unlike each other to Rukia. She had witnessed the changing of the seasons many times, watched the leaves die and fall and grow again in the spring. However, it wasn't something she had ever really thought about. It just happened, inevitable, unchangeable. The seasons didn't seem to touch her – having spent so many of her years in the halls of the Academy, or in service as a Shinigami. There was no reason to pay attention, there were other things that demanded her interest.

Now, in the living world, it was an entirely different matter. As she walked with Ichigo, moving more quickly to keep up with his longer stride, she found herself surrounded in a riot of color. Reds, golds, and oranges filled the air with a warm, pervading glow. Her eyes were riveted to the canopies of the trees that lined the sidewalks, allowing herself the time to admire them, and to wish that they would always remain so. To wish that those beautiful colors would not succumb to their fate of becoming dry and brittle and dead.

Fall was an appropriate name for it.

Dark hair obscured her eyes as she mulled over this. "The leaves must fall in the fall."

She wasn't even aware that she had spoken until Ichigo cast her a perplexed look. He appeared to shrug it off as another one of the oddities of her nature and looked back to the road in front of them. "They start to, but mainly the leaves change color in the fall. The rest fall in the winter."

"…." She could always trust him to throw her off track.

At her petulant silence he glanced at her again, and fought down the urge to smile at her disgruntled expression. "You could call it 'autumn' instead, if that helps."

"It certainly does _not_ help!"

Ichigo grimaced at her, and they were silent for a moment. Eventually her pensive mood overcame her again, but this time she purposefully gave voice to it.

"….Why do they have to fall?"

This time the response came more quickly, and his tone unexpectedly held no impatience. "Because they're dying."

"I know that! I just don't see why they must die _every_ year. All of them fall, and lose their color." A bright flash - thrilling you, holding your gaze, your heart, and then gone. To be enjoyed while it lasted, but with the knowledge that you would have to inevitably watch it go. Delicate. Impermanent. Humans, with their short lives. They were allowed so few of these experiences.

Shinigami, with their long ones, rarely learned to appreciate it. Perhaps it was better that way. Then they didn't need to mourn its passing.

This wasn't about the facts of nature, and they both knew it. Ichigo seemed to pick up on her mood, and responded with equal seriousness. "Well, yeah. People rake them up and throw them away, but some like to collect them. Yuzu does it. She presses them in a book, so that they never lose their color. It keeps them from turning brown and dead."

Blue eyes darted to meet his, startled. "They never lose their color, then?"

His eyes seemed shadowed as he nodded. "Yeah. My… mother used to do it. Sometimes she'd even put the pressed leaves in a picture frame, so that we could see them after the season changed." Now he turned away from her, choosing to look at the trees instead.

"…Oh."

Rukia went so quiet that Ichigo wasn't sure if he'd said something to distress her. Sometimes it was hard to tell just what would bother Rukia – she had so many memories. It was hard enough for him to deal with his own.

He scanned the trees quickly in search of a distraction, and swiftly plucked one of the changing leaves. Now that he looked at it, it had more orange and gold in it than red… well, it wasn't like he knew which color she preferred anyway. He handed it to Rukia, who looked surprised, but held out her hands to accept it.

"What's this for?"

All of a sudden he felt very stupid. "…You seemed interested in the leaves. Now you have one."

"Idiot, I could have chosen one myself." 

Ichigo tossed his hands in the air in an exasperated gesture. "Well, if you don't like it, then pick another one! Geez."

"No…" she held up the brightly colored leaf in front of her, glancing from its vivid angled ridges to him, an indecipherable smile on her face. "I think I'll keep this one."

The next day, one of his textbooks went missing.

…

Ichigo found it years later, way after it would have been useful. It was shoved in the corner of the closet, which hadn't been occupied for a good long while – there hadn't been a need for it in what seemed like ages. He probably wouldn't have found it at all, except it was time to move into his own home, and he wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Not to mention this was the final time he would spend considering this house as his home.

Giving into the desire to linger a bit, he sat on the floor to look through the book. When he brushed the dust off and opened it, something colorful fluttered into his lap. Upon closer observation he discovered it was an orange leaf – dried out and slightly brittle, but still every bit as vibrant as the day he had… _handed it to Rukia._

All at once the memory came back to him, and he sat staring at the leaf in his hand.

"Ichigo?" Rukia's voice came from the doorway, familiar in its rich clarity. "You went quiet all of a sudden. Did you find all of your stuff?"

The tiny woman stepped inside the room, her head tilted slightly to the side, observing him. She was dressed in a tan knee-length skirt with a cream-colored sweater and soft suede boots. The clothes, he knew, were gifts to Rukia from his sisters, who delighted in taking her shopping. Well, at least Yuzu did, and he rarely saw Karin complaining. Ichigo often opted out on such ventures, but he couldn't say he didn't like the results. 

Rukia's raven-dark hair went just past her shoulders, her having grown it out a bit in the recent years. It still held its distinctive wave just over her neck, framing her pale face and expressive eyes. He liked it longer… but before he could remember why, she arched an eyebrow at him and spoke again. "Ichigo?"

"I found more than that," he murmured, holding up the leaf so that she could see it. From the serene way she regarded it, he could tell that she had never forgotten it existed. There was a fond smile on her face, and she walked over to gently take it in her hands, just like she had those years ago.

There were differences, of course – scars marred her hands, now, light on her already pale skin. One curved up her neck, just barely making it onto her smooth cheek. It was mostly obscured by the fall of her hair, only really noticeable it if you knew it was there. Both of them bore such scars, there were only so many injuries they could sustain without their starting to leave marks. They faded more each day, but some would always remain.

They accepted that.

"It didn't lose its color, after all." Her words were about the leaf, but she was looking at him when she said it.

Ichigo broke out of his train of thought to register what she had said. He frowned. The things she came up with. "….You're an idiot sometimes."

Her expression became piqued, but before she could snap at him he reached up with one hand to pull her roughly into his lap. She gave a small sound of surprise and quickly held up the hand with the leaf to keep it from getting crushed. Her irritation was short lived, and she was soon trying to hide her laughter as she playfully tried to get out of his arms. He succeeded in trapping her, as usual, and traced his finger up the scar on her cheek, not needing to see it to know exactly where it was. She quirked a delicate eyebrow at him.

He had never had such a comfort – whatever little reassurance it may have provided her. Sometimes Rukia took strength from the smallest things. Or perhaps it wasn't as small as it seemed.

Ichigo had long been accustomed to living under the tough-guy stereotype, so his gaining scars didn't really affect him. Rukia was different, but she still wasn't self-conscious about hers. This was largely because of her proud nature, and because they didn't seem to make a difference to him at all. She trusted his image of her.

This indifference to the marks she bore almost seemed to accentuate her beauty – she had always been striking, her features unique and startling, and the pale scars seemed to heighten the effect. Especially as they were not particularly visible anymore – at one moment she would be facing you, looking for all the world like the personification of a butterfly, ready to be blown away by the first strong wind. Then she would turn and there would be a flash, a quick imprint of a scar, and her image changed. A butterfly, maybe, but one with mended wings.

One who fought the winds, and survived.

He looked down at the leaf she held in her hand – bits flaking off, a few cracks, but still shining with all its original color. It seemed to fit.

"You didn't ever have to worry about that, you know."

Rukia looked up at him, lips curved warmly. "Oh? I beg to differ."

"Then you'd be wrong. Nothing was going to happen to me." Ichigo curled his fingers in her hair, twining the gossamer strands around his fingers, enjoying the feel of it. _That_ was why he liked it long. Her shoulders shook with a small shiver of delight when she felt the rough pads of his fingers against her neck, but she still managed to bring up one leg to knee him lightly in the gut.

"That's because I kept it from happening, idiot." She reached out and pulled the textbook over to them, reverently replacing the leaf within the pages.

Cinnamon eyes watched her, understanding. "…You know, after it's been pressed for a while, you don't have to keep it pressed. It'll stay bright on its own."

She paused, her hand hovering over the book. "It will?"

The hesitation was all he needed to make the decision for her, moving to snatch the leaf and kick the book shut with his foot. She began to protest, but he placed one hand over her mouth, leaving her with just her eyes to portray her indignation. Luckily for Rukia, she'd never had any problems with expressing something that way. They were myriads of crystal emotion, speaking more clearly than any words she'd ever had to say.

Ichigo sighed and stood, pulling her to her feet beside him and tucking the leaf into the pocket of her skirt. "I think we've been here long enough – we've got a lot to do at home, anyway."

He moved to walk away, but Rukia paused, turning towards the closet. One small hand reached out to run affectionately along the thin panels. She could still fit in that space, if she wanted. It had been a fleeting, intense time – those nights she had slept tucked behind that door. Like all such bright-burning moments, it had needed to pass.

The young man watched her, and reached out a hand. "Come on, Rukia. You've got a lot more sleeping space, now."

_This_ fleeting moment didn't have to end, not yet. She smiled and accepted it, raising herself onto her toes to bring her mouth to his. He responded immediately, just as she knew he would, body curling over hers in a possessive gesture. Right there, kissing him, arms firmly holding her, she was once again surrounded by brilliance and warmth.

When her legs started to ache, she lowered herself slightly, tucking her face into his throat. Ichigo moved to cup her elbows in his palms, supporting her forearms with his. It was instinctive, an unspoken system they had figured out ages to ago compensate for their height difference. Not that she had much weight to support, anyway.

He felt her smile against his skin.

"I would, if you didn't hog the bed."

All that was heard in the room for long moments after they had left were echoes of her rich laughter and his indignant protestations. They thrummed from the walls, the slightly open door of the closet, the wood floor with the abandoned textbook.

The autumn sun began to set outside, and the glow that had come through the window faded.

Another moment ended.


End file.
